


Words Of The Master

by caz251



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caz251/pseuds/caz251
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of letters written by the Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Lucy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor Who.
> 
> Translated into Chinese by SilkyFeng - http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=143164&page=1&extra=#pid2763230

Dear Lucy,

My Darling Wife, you are completely useless, you understand that don't you. You are utterly worthless, of all the things you had to screw up, you screw up my death and condemn me to life with him, the bloody Doctor. I'm stuck in this TARDIS, I must admit the little bit of home is comforting, but I'm stuck with Mr. Bleeding-Bloody-Heart. Why did you have to miss, firing a gun isn't that hard, especially not for someone from such a war-like race, it didn't need to be any fancy shot just one that would have put me out of my misery. We discussed this, you promised me that if it all went to hell you would end me, all the things I did to make you happy and you couldn't do one thing for me. Shakespeare had the right idea, even if he was an ape, "Frailty thy name is woman."

The TARDIS is healing from my cannibalisation of her, and the song is returning, it cannot however block the sound of the drums. I hear them Lucy, I hear the calling, the call to war, they won't stop, they just get louder and louder and louder. Dun, Den, Dun, Dun. Over and over again, that is all I hear, not even the sound of the universe can block them, the constant drumming that only I am cursed with.

I know I always wanted to stand out and be different, unique, but I could live without this form of uniqueness. Why I wonder was I chosen, out of all of us who looked into the untempered schism, why did the drums choose me? I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, your little brain won't really understand the complexity of it all, I suppose I just need to tell someone, even if they don't understand.

Mr. Sanctimonious or the Doctor as he prefers to be called would probably say something along the lines of how "talking about these things helps" or how a problem shared is a problem halved, or some other contrite nonsense. I can't stand him, people think I'm the one with the problems, I'm not the one who believes that he can save everything he comes across, then gets upset for the loss of life, all the while he's got me chained up in the TARDIS like some damned pet.

He just left me here unable to go anywhere while he strutted around on what he informed me was a replica of the Titanic, but an airship, did you see it Lucy dear, it apparently came quite close to meeting the Queen. Then he comes back bemoaning the fate of those who had lost their lives, how cruel is that? I would gladly die to be rid of him or for him to die, and then when he doesn't die he talks about those who did manage to escape in front of me, the one who needs to escape him the most.

Anyway, I must go, it is nearly time for my daily dose of "Why did you do what you did? Why wouldn't you talk to me?" he really does make me feel ill.

Your Master  
Harry


	2. To The Freak

To The Freak,

I am probably the last person you would expect to contact you, aren't I Freak, but as I currently have nothing better to do I will bestow some of my time to you in the form of this note. The ever annoying Time Menace, the sainted Doctor, insists on pleasantries so I shall get them out of the way first. How are you Freak? Still alive, but of course you are, mostly anyway, the Freak of nature that can't stay dead.

Before I forget, how is your little team, did they enjoy their trip to the Himalayas? Which trip do you think they preferred, the one where they found their way to you or the one in which they got to the site of the tip off only to find you weren't there. I certainly know which one I preferred, but then again the mental and emotional torture it must have been for them to think they had found you only for it all to have been a hoax. The looks on their faces would have been an amazing sight to see, but I rather prefer the looks as they found you and your new purpose in eternal life, those looks will be burned into my mind for centuries, yours too I bet.

Your little secretary was oh so worried about your new position in life, did I ever tell you why he met his end? I did tell you of the reasons behind the others, the Doctor and the Techie tried to bring down my rule from within, the Carer, or whatever she was tried to ingratiate herself with me, hoping I would spare her pathetic life. The secretary though, he was different, he didn't try to save himself or the world, he tried to make his way to free you.

How does it feel Freak? To know that you were the reason for his death, that his loyalty to you, possibly love, stupid emotion, was what lead him to his death. To know that the life draining from his body could have been spared if it wasn't for you. You never wondered did you, why I had killed him in front of you though did you? You just overlooked it, more concerned by the fact that he and the rest of your team were dead. I did it for this moment you know, so that when I told you why it would break you.

I know you Jack Harkness, or whatever you want to call yourself, I've been in your head little Boeshane boy. I know how and what you think, and what you feel or did feel then. How does it feel now though, to know that you were responsible for the death of the one person you feel or felt the most for. It hurts, doesn't it, it's a pain most torturous and so great and intense. If only I could see your face as you read this, if I send it that is. The Doctor is not the most reliable of drivers and he won't let me near the TARDIS controls so finding a post-box may be problematic as he seems to have declared Earth as off-limits as such for a while.

I suppose I could as him to drop it at an intergalactic post-station for me, but that is snail mail at its slowest, the backlog the post stations have is unbelievable and I doubt you'd want a post-snail to appear in Cardiff in the twenty-first century, they're not the preferred mail carrier of the time. Not that he would drop it off anyway, the stick in the mud wouldn't want me conversing with you. In some strange way he wants to protect you even though he can stand you about as much as I can.

On that note I shall end this correspondence and figure out how to get it to you, maybe I can leave it in your room here in the TARDIS, you're bound to reappear at some point. The things you don't want to ever see again always seem to make a comeback, the Spice Girls for example.

Hating you deeply,   
The Master Of All


	3. Dear Francine

Dear Francine,

I can call you Francine can’t I? After all we are close friends. I mean we have spent so much time together recently that I feel like we have known each other for years. I have even helped you out with the family. I warned you didn’t I that Martha was in danger if she continued to travel with the Doctor, it was just a shame that she didn’t believe you when you told her that. Things may have happened differently if she had just listened to you about the danger that the Doctor puts people in.

I even got Tish that cushy job, it’s not just anyone who can become the PA to the Prime Minister you know. To get her that job I had a lot of convincing to do, my wife especially, I mean with Tish’s track record at being unable to hold a job for long. She was an alright PA while she lasted I suppose, but really there was no need for her in the long run as a PA, once I was Master of All I didn’t have to bother with meetings or paperwork.

Just think about it really, it’s thanks to me that you and Clive are back together again. If I hadn’t forced you two to spend time together, you may never have overcome your differences. I mean, you couldn’t even get along long enough to help your children, but now after some time with me your together again. Maybe I should become a marriage counselor; my method certainly seemed to work with you two. Then again that career path is a bit of a step down from Prime Minister, and it also reminds me too much of the Doctor trying to make everyone better. 

I was just writing to see how you all were after your time with me, if things were better for you than before. I know that Martha didn’t want to travel with the Doctor now that I’m with him. After all that I have done for your family, I find that rather ungrateful, but I suppose I can overlook it this once. Anyway I better go, the Doctor will no doubt be looking for me soon, and I doubt he’d be happy to find me under the TARDIS grating even if I did manage to convince him I was only writing a letter.

Your Friend,  
Harry


	4. Dear President Winters

Dear President Winters, 

This is an odd letter to write, I suppose it may be even weirder for you to receive, especially given the fact that you are dead. It is far more common on your backwards little world for letters to be sent from the dead than to them. However, I felt that as your killer I had the right to write to you. 

I suppose that you are wondering what I'm writing to you about, or rather you would be if you were alive. I suppose really that it is just a whim, you were my peer at one point, however much you disliked me. I think to be honest that you were just jealous of me and of the landslide majority by which I won the election and was voted into parliament. Your own ascent to power was nowhere near as impressive as mine. Your death really was your own fault, your ego really should have been kept in check, if you hadn't been so controlling things would not have been the same. I may have even let you live, it would have been very satisfying to have you waiting on me as a servant. 

I am positive that you would have watched the in-flight entertainment avidly; the destruction of your people by someone other than themselves would have been a refreshing change to watch. Then again your people were capable of killing themselves off easily enough. Without such a guiding force as yourself things went downhill for your people, they were easily subdued and my friends, you remember them, the ones you tried to master, so enjoyed the sport.

To be honest I am really just writing to inform you that regardless of your death, your people would still have been either culled or subdued and that there would have been nothing that you could have done to change that. No matter what you had sworn that got you voted into office, whether it a better way of life or even security from terrorist forces, you would never have succeed in protecting your people from the way of life I imposed upon them or my terrorist actions.

With Sympathy,  
The Ex-Prime Minister of Britain


	5. Dearest Doctor

Dearest Doctor,

I wonder what you'll think when you find this letter. Currently you are hiding out in your library, unable to face me for fear of seeing yourself reflected in me. You know we are alike, too alike, and that scares you, it always has, that's why you run. Always running and taking in history, too afraid to stop for a while in case you fall back into ways of destruction.

You wanted to keep me so you weren't alone, but I am not a pet, I am never the pet. I am the one in control, I always am. You think that I wish to continue this existence trapped here with you and your talk of redemption and being better. Of course not, not when there are vast universes out there to control, to conquer and to create. 

A new Gallifrey in the sky, it was all I wanted. Imagine for once it's me trying to pick up the pieces of your destructive tendencies and place them back together again, like a fragmented puzzle. Did you care though? Of course not, not when I was sacrificing your precious humans to do so.

Gallifrey will rise again, with me at the top. A new civilisation of Time Lords with me as their Master. There would be a place for you in the new order if you came down off your high horse, but we both know you won’t.

When you read this I will be gone, you won't find me, not until its time. Time for Gallifrey to take her place in the sky once more. You have till then to decide if you will be part of her rise to glory once more. 

Always yours,  
Your Master

Ps. Please mail the other letters you find with this one to their intended recipients.


End file.
